


Between Kin and Kind

by BuckinghamAlice



Series: Spending Holidays with the SuperBats [14]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, Light Angst, M/M, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-27
Updated: 2014-11-27
Packaged: 2018-02-27 05:16:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2680466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuckinghamAlice/pseuds/BuckinghamAlice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark invites Bruce and family to come to the Thanksgiving parade.  Bruce does not invite Clark to Thanksgiving dinner.  Relationship discussions follow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between Kin and Kind

“Put on another sweater,” Bruce called. “And a hat and mittens. Bring a coat, too.” He impatiently checked his watch for the sixth time and glanced out the open door, to where Alfred was waiting with the car running.

In a moment, Dick came running down the stairs, still looking rather tired. “Why do I have to bundle up so much? I’m used to cold weather, dressing the way I do for work.”

“This isn’t for _work_ ,” Bruce replied, helping the boy into his coat and zipping it up. “And it’s freezing out there. I won’t have you catching a cold… Alfred would kill me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the boy grumbled. He pulled his hat down and asked, “How come Clark is going to be reporting on the parade? That’s not the kind of stuff he normally does.”

Bruce put his own gloves on and said, “Someone called in sick, so Clark is filling in for them – hosting a livestream on the Daily Planet’s website. It’s a good opportunity for him.” Then, with a glance over his shoulder at the boy, he asked, “Why? Don’t you want to see the parade? And see Clark?”

“Of course!” Dick chimed as they headed out of the house and walked down the path. “I always want to see Clark.” Bruce hummed an agreement… alarmingly, he felt the same way. But he said nothing as they settled into the car and Alfred drove away. Dick held a thermos of hot chocolate in his gloved hands and chattered happily, but Bruce found himself tuning out the child’s voice and staring out the window. As much as he realized he was looking forward to seeing Clark, he feared he might be looking forward to it too much. And he’d felt that way more than he cared to admit. And more importantly, he’d allowed Dick to pick up that same attitude. And he couldn’t help but worry that it would get them both into trouble.

When they arrived at downtown Metropolis, they made their way to the spots Clark had saved for them. They were really good seats, near where Clark would be standing with a cameraman. He was still busy with preparations before the show, but Bruce saw him from where they stood – and, he noted to himself, Clark looked very nice in a black coat, navy blue pants, and a lighter blue sweater. The camera would love him. The last time Bruce had seen Clark look so put together was on a recent date night. Bruce wondered briefly if the outfit wasn’t more for him than it was for the camera, but then he chided himself on being perhaps a bit self-centered.

Clark soon came back to his position and waved to them, just before the camera turned on. They waved back, and Dick began to sip his hot chocolate as the parade began.

Not long after the big floats and high flying balloons began to pass them, some people crowded in front of them, and Dick sighed. Bruce asked if he could see over the top of the crowd, and when he said he couldn’t, Bruce lifted the boy up and sat him atop his shoulders.

“Is that advisable, sir?” Alfred asked, looking up at the rosy cheeked boy.

Bruce smiled as he felt Dick tapping on his head excitedly. “I think so,” Bruce replied.

The parade took its usual route and lasted for a few cold, cheerful hours. When the parade ended, people started filing away, and some made their way into the few department stores that were, for some awful reason, open. Bruce and Dick and Alfred, however, stood in the same spots and waited for Clark to come and get them.

When Clark was finished with what he had to do, he found the three of them. Dick announced his approach, as if Bruce hadn’t seen him, by calling, “Clark!” Then, when Clark was close enough, he slid off of Bruce’s shoulders and into Clark’s arms.

“Hey, pal!” Clark said, giving the boy a big hug before lowering him to the ground. Then, smiling at Bruce and Alfred, he said, “Hi! Happy Thanksgiving!” Bruce nodded and Alfred returned the greeting and holiday well wishes. Bruce silently watched as Dick beamed at Clark and told him about how excited he was to see the Superman balloon flying just before the Batman and Robin balloons. Dick really did like Clark a lot. Bruce couldn’t blame him though… he liked Clark, too. It went against every instinct he had, but still… he did. He liked him very much.

It was almost as if his mind and his emotions were at war, because intellectually he knew there were a number of reasons he shouldn’t be indulging this relationship… but when he was able to compartmentalize those thoughts, he became tender with Clark and gave into the part of him that craved closeness with this wonderful man that just wanted to make him happy.

And at the moment, watching Clark be such a natural with Dick, Bruce was fighting the urge to hug Clark or take his hand, right there on that busy sidewalk where anyone could see them.

Instead, he settled on asking Dick, “Did you tell Clark you saw Santa Claus?”

“He’s a friend of mine, you know,” Clark added, smiling.

Dick laughed and clapped his hands together once. “You’re kidding me.”

“Would I lie to you?” Clark asked.

Dick laughed again and shook his head. Then he turned to Bruce, quite suddenly, and tugged on his sleeve. “Hey! You should invite Clark to come have Thanksgiving with us!”

Bruce hesitated. “I… I don’t know…”

“Oh, come on, Bruce,” Dick went on. Then, looking imploringly at Clark, he asked, “Won’t you please come? Please? It’ll be fun.”

Clark looked at Bruce, who purposely avoided eye contact. Bruce was afraid to see Clark’s reaction… either he was happy at the prospect of coming to their family dinner or he didn’t want to come at all. And Bruce didn’t know how to respond to either of those reactions, so he’d really rather not.

Ever the lifesaver, Alfred stepped in and said, “Master Dick, maybe we should let these two have a moment?”

“Not until Clark says he’ll come today,” Dick insisted.

“It’s a _family_ day, Dick,” Bruce finally said. “I’m sure Clark doesn’t want to spend it with us. He’s got his own family and he should be with _them_. Not us. We’re not his family.” Bruce winced at the words himself as soon as they were out of his mouth. He finally chanced a look at Clark, because he had to know… and when he saw Clark’s face and how he was now purposely avoiding eye contact, Bruce knew that he had hurt him.

Dick frowned and opened his mouth to reply, but Alfred silenced him with a hand on his shoulder. “You know, Master Dick, I do believe that coffee shop on the corner there is open… why don’t we go and get your thermos of hot chocolate refilled?”

“But—”

“But nothing,” Alfred said, in his quiet but stern way. “Come along.” Dick grumbled but left with Alfred, and Bruce realized that he should have stopped them from going. Now he’d just have to try and explain to Clark why he had said what he did when he couldn’t even explain it to himself.

“Clark, I didn’t mean…”

Clark silenced him by raising his hand, as if to halt him. “It’s fine.”

“You really would be better off with your parents,” Bruce began. “I mean, you do understand why I can’t have you there today, don’t you?”

Clark crossed his arms, as if he was cold. “Well, not really, no. But I don’t suppose it’s my place to ask, now is it?”

Bruce sighed. “Don’t be like that.”

At that, Clark rolled his eyes. Exactly the kind of gesture most people would think he was above… but he was too human not to react like that from time to time. “Just… tell Dick and Alfred goodbye for me.”

Unable to say more, Bruce nodded. “And tell your parents Happy Thanksgiving for me.”

Clark sighed. “I’m actually probably not going to see them today… they’re volunteering at some homeless shelters with a bunch of other people from the church and they’re going to be busy all day.” He shrugged, as if to say it was unimportant. Bruce knew him well enough to know that was a brave front.

“Oh,” he replied. “So you… you don’t have plans with anyone today?” When Clark simply looked away and didn’t answer aloud, Bruce felt guilty and rushed to add, “I… suppose it would be all right if you came over after all. I might have been hasty before when I said… what I said.”

Clark shuffled his feet. “I don’t need your pity invite, Bruce. I’ll be fine.”

“It wasn’t a pity invite,” Bruce insisted. “I just…”

Clark sighed heavily. “No, Bruce. I… can’t.”

But there was something about his tone, his sad and defeated voice, that scared Bruce. The thought that he might have ruined things made his heart speed up. He looked Clark in the eye and forced himself to ask, “You can’t, or you don’t want to?”

Clark bit his lip and sighed again. He seemed to have trouble motivating himself to speak as he replied, “I can’t. I can’t do this.”

At that, Bruce’s heart began to beat so out of control he feared it would burst right out of his chest. He’d screwed up. He’d ruined everything. With one conversation and one fear based decision, he’d lost Clark. “Okay,” he forced himself to say. “But… for what it’s worth, I understand. Probably not worth much, but…”

“No… it is,” Clark replied. He paused, and for a moment, they just silently stood there looking at each other. Clark sighed again and ran his hands though his hair, just about as frustrated as Bruce had ever seen him. “Listen, I’ll talk to you tomorrow or this weekend or something. I just really want to go home now.”

Bruce nodded. “Yeah. I’ll talk to you… later.” Bruce watched as Clark stuffed his hands in his coat pockets and walked away. He briefly considered going after him to insist he take Bruce’s gloves, because his hands looked cold… but then he remembered how silly that would sound.

Bruce waited silently for Alfred and Dick to return. When they did, they all silently filed over to the car and began the journey back to Gotham.

“Bruce?” Dick began. “You and I aren’t related, but we’re family… aren’t we?”

Bruce nodded. “Of course we are.”

Dick’s brows furrowed then, seemingly out of confusion. “Then why isn’t Clark?”

Bruce sighed and tried to find an answer. The best he could come up with was, “You’ll understand when you’re older.” He saw Alfred watching him through the rearview mirror at that, and he tried his best to ignore the disapproving look on his face. That would prove easier than ignoring the heavy feeling of regret that was settling in the pit of his stomach and forming into an intricate knot.

&&&

Bruce merely picked at the elaborate turkey dinner with all the trimmings that Alfred had prepared. He couldn’t stop thinking about Clark, and watching him walk away with his hands in his coat pockets. Bruce had thought that having Clark come to this family holiday dinner would be too significant somehow… that it would mean things were too serious, and Bruce had invested enough that he could potentially end up with his heart broken. But it had turned out to be too significant for Clark _not_ to be there. Having him stay away meant Bruce had failed… that he hadn’t been ready to take on a relationship but he was too greedy to be satisfied with what had been a wonderful friendship.

The day wore on, and Bruce regretted his words to Clark more and more. He wanted to offer Clark more, he really did… but this was the best he could do. He thought Clark understood that… but maybe he’d have to explain it.

Later that evening, when he was sure that Alfred was in the middle of his nap and Dick was in his room playing video games, Bruce decided to text Clark. He simply couldn’t let things sit the way they were, and he couldn’t wait for some vague time in the future to talk to him again and attempt to make the best of the situation.

“We need to talk,” was Bruce’s first message. He followed it up with, “Come over.”

There was no response, but it wasn’t even a minute later that Bruce felt a gust of wind and saw Clark standing beside him in his study. “Hi,” Bruce began.

“Hey,” Clark replied, nodding casually.

Bruce shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Did you… have a good day?”

Clark nodded. “Lois and I went out for Chinese. She said we should try to beat the crowds of people who don’t celebrate Christmas.”

“That woman has an odd sense of humor,” Bruce replied, snorting a laugh.

Clark smiled. “Yeah. She does,” he agreed fondly. “Although I don’t imagine you asked me to come over here to talk about her. So… why don’t we get to it?”

“Well, that’s direct,” Bruce replied. “But you’re right. Let’s get to it.” He paused a moment and then asked, “Don’t you think we should do this in the kitchen?”

Clark raised a brow. “The kitchen? I guess…”

“Well, that way we can have a piece of pie,” Bruce replied. “I didn’t have any after dinner, and Alfred made several lovely pumpkin pies…”

“Okay,” Clark replied. “That actually sounds great.”

The two made their way to the large kitchen, and Bruce got out two plates and put a slice of pie on each of them. He also put a dollop of whipped cream on each piece of pie and poured them each a cup of coffee. They sat across from one another at the table and ate the pie in silence for a few minutes.

“This is good,” Clark finally said. “Not quite as good as Ma’s, but second place is nothing to be ashamed of.”

Bruce smiled softly and nodded. “I’m sure Alfred would appreciate the compliment.”

“Did you all have a nice Thanksgiving dinner?” Clark asked.

“It was fine,” Bruce replied. “I was a bit distracted though… because of the way we left things.”

Clark’s eyes widened and he took a sip of his coffee before asking, “So that bothered you as well?”

“Of course it did,” Bruce sighed. “And I’m sorry, Clark. I know I hurt your feelings, and that was wrong. But it’s just that… I have to be careful now. More than ever.”

Clark scoffed lightly. “Really? How could you possibly be _more_ careful?”

Bruce wrinkled his nose. “No… I mean about Dick. Where he’s concerned.”

“Dick?” Clark repeated, seemingly confused.

Bruce nodded. “It’s just that I can’t risk this going badly… for his sake. He’s always appreciated your companionship so much, and now that you and I are involved, he cares for you more than ever…”

Clark nodded slowly, understanding beginning to dawn on him. “Does he?” he asked simply.

Bruce nodded again. “I think he even… loves you,” he went on quietly, gulping after the last words had left his mouth. “And if this thing between us ends up going badly, he’d probably be heartbroken. And he’s _sensitive_. He’s been through _so_ much already…”

“I understand that, I really do,” Clark replied softly. “But I don’t want this to end either… and I would never hurt… him. I love him, too. And I have for a really long time.”

Bruce reached across the table and gently touched Clark’s hand. “I know you do, Clark. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that.” He looked down at the table then, because it was easier than looking Clark in the eye. “But you can’t guarantee that he won’t get hurt… no one can guarantee that. Not even Superman. So I have to do what I can to make sure that _can’t_ happen. It’s my job now.”

“Right,” Clark said, nodding. “Well, you do what you have to.” They sat there silently for some time, and it seemed there was nothing more either of them could or would say. Eventually Clark stood up and turned away, and Bruce felt his stomach lurch. He got up as well and did the only thing he could think to do at the moment. He hugged Clark from behind.

Bruce almost buried his face in Clark’s shoulder as he said, “I’m sorry I can’t give you more than this right now…”

He felt Clark’s hand touching his then. Clark’s voice was soft but strong as he said, “You’re worth waiting for. You _both_ are. You need to take this slow… I understand.”

Bruce turned Clark around to face him then and looked him in the eye. He didn’t know exactly what to say, so he tried to pack as many words as he could into the gentle but honest kiss he pressed to Clark’s lips. “Thank you,” Bruce managed, when their lips parted.

Clark took Bruce’s hands and they touched their foreheads together. They stood like that for a moment, silent and contemplative, before Clark finally announced, “Listen, I should go before Dick comes down here and won’t let me leave.”

Bruce nodded. Clark turned to go, but before Bruce would let go of him, he said, “Clark, I… when I said you weren’t family…”

“I know,” Clark replied. He gave Bruce another quick kiss, and this time when he turned to leave, Bruce had to let him. He waved goodbye as he left, and Bruce slipped silently back into his chair as thoughts flooded his mind. Things were resolved, for now. Clark had understood… and he was so lucky. But he wanted to offer Clark more… he deserved it. He hoped he would be able to give it to him someday.

“I love you, too. _I_ love you,” he whispered in Clark’s direction. He didn’t know if Clark would still be listening and able to hear him… but he’d said it out loud… and that was something he’d never done before.

His thoughts were interrupted just then by the sound of little feet pounding on the stairs and running into the kitchen. “Was that Clark I just saw flying off?” Dick demanded.

Bruce nodded and stirred the forgotten cup of coffee sitting on the table in front of him. “Yeah. But he couldn’t stay.”

Dick shrugged and very plainly said, “He’ll come back.” He then seemed to notice the plates and forks they had used for their pieces of pie and asked, “Can _I_ have a piece of pie?”

“Sure,” Bruce replied. “Of course. Help yourself.” He paused as he watched the boy slice himself a piece of pie and sit down across from him. He tried to sound reassuring as he added, “And he will be back. Don’t worry.”

“Oh, I’m not worried,” Dick replied, taking a piece of pie. “I know everything will be all right. It always is with you two.”

Bruce smiled to himself and sincerely hoped that Dick was right.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this while still dealing with the end of NaNo (so if anything is wonky, let's blame it on the fact that I've written going on fifty thousand words beside this). Also, because I'm bloody exhausted and don't have the time, there's not going to be a Black Friday fic this go around. Feel free to imagine Clark and Bruce looking for a specific toy for one of their children and Bruce perhaps fighting over the last of said toys with a bargain hunting mom, both swearing they touched the box first.


End file.
